Vulnerable
by Cyndele
Summary: Emory Ross, not quite genius but child prodigy, comes from a broken family, something her analytic brain cannot fix. Not knowing the true definition of love is, she plunges herself into the arms of Boy Genius, a.k.a., Spencer Reid in hopes of finding what it truly is. However, when a case pulls Emory away into the great abyss of darkness, can the genius save her in time?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N I'm sorry if the character are a bit OOC.**

**Emory's POV **

I quietly slipped through the seats of my first class. Professer Bauer had announced a presentation that would be given by the FBI; how incredibly _enticing_. If you can't tell, there is simply pure sarcasm dripping from that statement. As I always have, I sat myself down in the far corner of the top row of seats. In all honesty, college was simply high school for me; easy, but terribly lonely. I got early acceptance into my namesake, Emory, majoring in medical science. You're not very popular if you're supposed to be in eleventh grade, but instead are in a sophmore class._  
><em>

"Ladies and gentlemen, Agent Hotchner and Dr. Spencer Reid will be presenting their presentation on the psychology of a serial rapist; how their cognitive thinking processes work and what can trigger such horrible acts of assault." our professer announced with bravado.

I put in a ear bud, and played a bit of Green Day, and drew little things on the edges of my frayed notebook. We were supposedly having an exam on the diagnosis of psychopathy, and that this was supposed to be our review, but I found it madly annoying that they expect a presentation to boost our grades to the bare minimum.

"How about you in the back?" a voice called out.

My eyes flickered upwards, and raised an eyebrow. The younger one, Dr. Reid, stood waiting with a pretentious half smile creeping upon his face. I looked at the slideshow slide; the question, ''In conclusion, how do you think the psychopathy of a serial rapist develops?" blared outwards.

I cleared my throat quietly, and answered. "In medical records, it is developed through a hyperactive dopamine reward system that the brain acquires. However, I personally believe it is caused through a man versus self-type situation that developed without anyone noticing. Thus, a schizophrenia-esque disorder develops, causing them to develop their own sadistic reward system."

"Double brain gets it again! Where will she strike next?'' the boy in the front row mutters, causing few laughs to erupt from the crowd.

Dr. Reid frowns slightly, and asks, "How old are you, Miss...?"

"I'm seventeen, eighteen in September. And it's Emory. Emory Ross."

His eyebrows flicker up ever so slightly, and he smiles to himself. The older man thanks the class for their time, and they leave. As they do, class is dismissed. I grab my books, and go to my next class, Acc. Tech. However, before I'm out the door, I'm stopped by Prof. Bauer. She says she wants to speak to me about placing me in a different Psychology class.

I nod, telling her to speak. "Miss Ross, your grades are extremely high, and you seem to have a thorough understanding of the human brain. There was a reason behind the presentation, and it wasn't to boost class grades. It was to scout out possible BAU members. Aar-_Agent_ Hotchner says that you were the perfect candidate. You are to meet him and Dr. Reid at the BAU headquarters. They're willing to pay for the flight, but you'll have to find housing. What do you say?"

I frown slightly; psychology wasn't really my major, medical science was. However, if I was able to get the credit for being a possible candidate, then that what look pretty damn good on my resume. I nod in agreement.

Prof. Bauer smiles, and says, "I'll tell them your answer."

* * *

><p>"Mum, I'm going to be visiting you for a few weeks; do you mind if I crash at your place?" I ask my mother via the phone.<p>

''Don't you have classes? I don't want me interfering with your life." she answers, clearly suspicious of my wanting to ''visit'' her all of a sudden.

_Now you care about my classes_, I think frustratingly. "I got early dismissal from my classes; far ahead as always. Plus, while I'm visiting you, I'm doing a project for college.''

"What's the project called?" she immediately fires back.

"Uh... Project...um, X?"

"...Fine. When can I expect you to arrive?"

"Saturday. Four thirty in the afternoon."

"I'll be there."

I hang up, and then lay down on the carpeted floor of my dorm room. My entire life revolved around me being the smartass of the family. My dad was diagnosed with bipolar disorder, and mild psychopathy. My mum was depressed, and took too many antidepressants, as well as esctasy. My sister was slightly bipolar, but was relatively normal. Just borderline average; average looks, average intelligence, average grades... average _everything_. Just an average girl born into a life she didn't deserve; she deserved a whole lot more than what she had.

Suddenly, there's a knock at my door, and I'm cautious to open it; nobody ever visited me.

"Hello, Emory Ross right?" the familiar doctor says.

"Er..Dr. Reid?" I mutter confusedly, "What are you doing here? Aren't you suppposed to be in Quantico?"

"Well, I've been told to stay with you; actually, to simply teach you the basics of training to become a BAU agent. Considering your age, you'll need guidance from someone close to your age; me." he answers awkwardly.

"..."

"Let's start off simple. What do you fear the most?" he asks.

I don't even have to think.

"I fear falling apart."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N I apologize to anyone who may be offended by the accents; this is how I hear and interpret them, so I'm sorry if I'm stereotyping anyone. Also, a warning for violence and implied rape. Trigger warning.**

**Emory's P.O.V.**

After asking a few more questions, he left, giving me his phone number, and vice versa. For a little bit, I simply sat there, staring into the small mirror hung on the wall. Tired, grey eyes stared intently back, while the ombred lighter tips of my hair were reminiscent to vipers. Like always, tiny little dots of black appeared, surrounding my reflection. The darkness just kept pooling into the mirror, until there was a shape of black around my face. The reflection's lips twisted into a cruel smile, and screamed, "Emory, EMORY!''

I woke up in a pool of cold sweat. A pair of light green eyes stared back at me; Alyzah, my roommate and only friend.

"Alyzah," I muttered, "What time is it?"

"6:48, darling. Ye still been havin' those nah'ightmares?" she answered, her thick country accent coming through.

"Yeah, but they're getting better at the very least."

"Yer know what would'ah help? Ah nice, pah-rty." she proclaimed proudly, "Now, don't ye be telling me thaht ye don't go ter no pah-rty. I seen ye go to Brittany Ardenson's birthday bahsh."

"Depends who's party it is." I retorted, face red.

She grinned, "Reese Leinwand's."

* * *

><p>I've never been much of a partyer. A place filled with junkies, drugs, and alcohol simply wasn't my thing. All around us, you could see who was the dealer, and who was the consumer. Alyzah simply smiled at both flirtatiously, and promised sex for coke.<p>

"Alyzah, coke can kill you." I started.

"Emory, it's my life. Let me deal with my problems my own way." she snarled back.

I swallowed, and walked towards the exit; it was a bad idea coming. Alyzah had two different personalities, which I called Alyzah, and Alpha. Whenever she arrived into a party or a bar, she automatically switched to Alpha, the evil twin. Alyzah, however, was the sweetest person that has ever been injected into my life.

When I got to the door, Josh Haegen blocked the door. "Double brain, what's a genius like you doing in a rave party?"

I spun on my heel, and stared at Alyzah with anger. "Alyzah, you idiot! You brought me to a rave party? You realize that it's full of alcohol and drugs, right?!"

The music stopped, and the entire crowd faced me. As soon as they registered my face, look of disgust, anger, and annoyance conflicted with the terror that was building up in me. A rave party. She had tricked me into going to a rave party. I looked around me; white powder, syringes, and empty bottles. However, there were bright flashing lights, and the local band was playing.

"This is illegal, Josh. I'm calling the cops." I state monotonously.

I grab my phone, only to be slammed to the ground, my phone shattering into pieces. After the slight shock of it, the slow surge of pain began to crash onto me. Josh's enraged face, along with the sea of cruelly excited frat members started to blur; I had to call Spencer. Only his number registered in my brain.

"702-555-0103," I whispered over and over again, grabbing onto Josh's shoulders.

He smirked like a python, and delivered a punch to my jaw, the tremendous force knocking me aside.

"How does it feel, double brain? To be the underdog for once!" he screamed, delivering kicks in all different directions.

I stuff my hand into his pocket, and grab his Samsung. My fingers refused to respond as I shakily jotted in the numbers, 702-555-0103.

* * *

><p><strong>Reid's P.O.V.<strong>

"Morgan, if the wounds were inflicted post-humously, then there would be less blood, less of an explosion of arteries and organs.'' I argued, pointing to diagram upon diagram of the bodies.

Suddenly, my phone buzzed, and rang. Angrily, I was about to decline the call, until I noticed the location.

"Hello?" I answer quizzically.

"S-Spencer...,'' she stuttered, ''H-Help..."

"Emory? What's wrong? Where are you?" I demand, standing up in white hot fury. For what, I don't know.

In the background, there are angry yells, and the chants of enraged adolescents.

"A-At a r-rave party...A-Alyza brought m-me. It's Ree-"

_Your call has been disconnected._

"Have Garcia track the phone number, Emory's in trouble.'' I say, with a surge of authority filling my voice.

"Reid, what's wrong?" Hotch asks, with no room for missed details.

"Emory called. Said someone took her to a rave party. But her voice was muffled and slightly thick. That means her lip is most likely swollen and possibly cut. She sounded afraid, filled with fear. She was about to say where she was, but it cut off. Someone with a name that begins with 'Ree'." I answered.

"Have Garcia run those three letters through the college. Cross check it with affluent families; no average or borderline average family could afford a rave party." Hotch ordered, "We are not losing a possible female Reid."

I gave him a slightly offended look, soliciting a laugh from Morgan.

As the phone rang, I started to pace, thinking of the Worst Case Scenarios that could possibly happen.

"Your lovely tech princess and goddess of everything chocolate has found your possible suspect. Reese Leinwand, got into Emory- the college, not my future best friend- through money. Gets into fights, has been charged with assault and battery on a multitude of times. Goes home every Friday to hold, wait for it..._rave parties_." Garcia said with her cheerful gusto.

"He's beating her up." I state, "He's beating her up!"

"Reid, we don't know that." Hotch started.

"No, we do know that! The judge can write us a warrant for probable cause! Emory's muffled and thick voice, her call for help, and the angry voices. We have probable cause, as well as an impromptu nine one one call." I retort, running my hand through my hair.

"Then, let's get to it." Morgan replied steely.

* * *

><p><strong>Emory's P.O.V.<strong>

"Well, double brain, the only reason Alyzah brought you here was so she could take credit in killing the source of anxiety and anger from everyone; you. She isn't your friend, she was the bait that you bit, you smartass. You should've known that a perfectly good, high ranked girl like Alyzah wouldn't be friends with you." Josh says caustically, trailing his switchblade on the line of my collarbone.

My eyes flicker towards Alyzah, who has a kicked puppy look on her face: a deer caught in headlights kind of look.

Josh's eyes stare at my collarbone, and then lower. He smirks, "Before we..._dispose _of you, let's have a little fun, shall we?"

The crowd roars in agreement. In a frenzy, I pound on his steel chest, desperately trying to get him off of me. I scream as loud as I can, only to be drowned by the excited screaming of the crowd. He rips off my sweater, and tears apart my leggings. Off come the bra and panties, and I'm simply exposed to the entire crowd.

The next few minutes feel like hours, hours turning into days, and days turning into months. His hard pants, and his filthy words are my only reality as of now. The hard grip on my hip is killing it, slowly shattering it to pieces. He calls me a freak after he sees the scars cascading across my arms and thighs. The only thing I can whisper is, "They never checked your thighs."

Suddenly, I'm lost in the past. My early high school years filled with endless hours spent in the bathroom with an eyebrow trimmer and a pencil sharpener razor. Each cut was another whisper that stabbed my back over and over again, and nobody was there. It was so cold, and empty, and so, so lonely.

"Tell anyone, and you'll be dead before you can answer Bauer's psychology questions." he hisses, oblivious to the fact that a hundred people have just witnessed the atrocity.

Then he leaves; they all leave. There's a towel thrown over me, and I simply lay there for a long time, until Spencer shows up. His words are drowned within the confines of my mind. I can only catch a few before I zone out once more. In order to keep me conscious, he keeps asking the same question over and over, or, at least I think he is.

"What do you fear the most?" he whispers softly.

My voice cracks as the tears spill out, "I...t-told..you, S-Spenc-cer..I f-fear falling a-apart.."


End file.
